


The Idle Kneazle Never Gets The Fish

by WrittenSins



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, also age of consent in britain is 16, and james has got it baaaad, merry christmas!!!!, next gen fic, teddy's a little bit hipster a little bit bad boy and a little bit dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 14:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2854571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrittenSins/pseuds/WrittenSins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know what they say, the idle kneazle never gets the fish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Idle Kneazle Never Gets The Fish

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas! :)
> 
> Check out my tumblr for writing updates and the occasional drabble: http://pcnsysparkinson.tumblr.com/

It was nearing midnight at Godric's Hollow and to the cheerful, intoxicated muggles stumbling passed, the Potter house looked as asleep as the rest of the village. The windows were dark, save one festively decorated tree in the front left, and not a sound could be heard, not even a mouse and especially not the Potters three noisy children. Had these muggles been a bit more sober however, they may have noticed the peculiar shimmer in the air around the Potter's home, or the way a fat, tabby orange cat with a very unfortunate name disappeared the second it stepped onto the yard. Or, perhaps, how none of the snow drifting lazily down seemed to fall on the Potter's yard at all.

But they were not thinking about those odd Potters right then, with their strange fondness for someone named Merlin or their even stranger house guests — no, they were thinking only of their beds and the promise of sugar plums dancing in their heads, and so they stumbled on, brains pleasantly fuzzy with alcohol. How could they have known that right then the Potters were anything, but asleep. Or about the Christmas Party going on at that very moment, right beneath their noses.

The singing bushels of holly had long since lost their enthusiasm and the carefully constructed warming charms had worn off hours ago, but still the party wore on as strong as ever in the Potter's backyard. Laughter and chatter filled the air like magic, broken by the occasional shriek and shout as Albus, Rose, and Scorpius chased each other around the yard, snowballs flying between them. On the dance floor, Lily and Hugo twirled away merrily, singing along with Celestina Warbeck on the top of their lugs and blatantly ignoring the dark glares Victoire was throwing them over her date's shoulders. All of it was lost on Louis and Lysander as they slow danced in their corner of the dance floor, oblivious to their family, oblivious to the upbeat music, oblivious to everyone and everything, but each other.

Off to the left, a band of fairies had abandoned their posts and were trying vainly to escape the boundary spells, completely unaware of the twin redheads creeping up on them. By the punch bowl Dominique and Molly argued loudly over the merits of Aristotle, and Lucy listened with an amused, indulgent expression as Lorcan went on excitedly about something, crouched before a plant and a familiar sparkle in the protuberant, silvery orbs he had inherited from his mother.

James Potter drunk it all in like it was air.

Somewhere amidst the crowd of family and friends he could hear Ron boasting loudly about the time him, Harry, and Hermione had rode a dragon, voice slurred with firewhiskey. He snorted into his regretfully plain eggnog and rolled his eyes. All it took was a few shots of firewhiskey and any family gathering turned into a battle of stories, a contest of the adults to one up each other with old tales from their youth. And James loved those stories, truly he did, but one could only hear about how his plant loving Uncle Neville had cut the head off a giant snake so many times before wanting to bash their head against the nearest surface.

“You look nervous.”

The soft, dreamy voice came from behind him. Luna walked towards him, a mug of something that emanated purple smoke clutched in each hand — where in James' house she had procured such a thing, he didn't know. What he did know was that Luna Lovegood looked for all the world like a walking Christmas tree. Cloaked in a long, flowing green dress with ornaments and flashing lights and candy canes sewn all over it she bore a remarkable resemblance to the Christmas tree currently sitting in the Potter's living room. All she was missing was the ornament of Mr. Widdlesworth, Lily's cat. Even her jacket, a bright red trench-coat that fell to her knees, hadn't escaped the Christmas cheer, decorated with gold garland and odd baubles. She wrinkled her rosy nose over her scarf and commented idly, “They'll regret that, I suspect.”

James followed her gaze. Fred and Roxanne were closing in on the fairies now, glass jars gleaming in their hands.

“You know, the idle kneazle never gets the fish,” Luna continued. James looked at her and she gave him a knowing, serene smile, mistletoe earrings dangling in the breeze. Her silvery eyes seemed to glow in the night. “I just saw Teddy heading into the kitchen.”

With that, she continued on, humming a strange tune under her breath and leaving a trail of purple smoke in her wake. James watched as she joined Rolf and tried to ignore the heat crawling up his cheeks. A warm grin stretched across Rolf's face the second he saw her. James blew out a loud breath and observed as it clouded in the air before. It wasn't often he understood one of his aunt's odd sayings, but that one had left little to the imagination. Suddenly, he remembered the little smirks Rose and Lily had been shooting him all morning and the way Albus had whispered something earlier to Scorpius when he had passed, causing him to snort in a very un-Malfoy-like manner. Even James' parents had looked far too amused that morning when he had asked them to confirm that Teddy was definitely going to be at the party — but perhaps that had, had more to do with it being his fifth time that morning asking.

James groaned and jammed his hand through his hair. He was about as subtle as a troll. Or as Teddy.

 _The idle kneazle never gets the fish, huh_ , he thought, ears burning. He took a deep, steadying breath, then headed determinedly towards the back door. Along the way, he shoved his half-empty glass of eggnog into Rose's hand.

“Uh, thanks?” She called after him, promptly followed by a shocked gasp of, “ _Merlin's balls!_ ” when a snowball exploded off the side of her face.

A stream of obscenities and threats that would've impressed Ron — and very unimpressed Hermione — followed, accompanied by Scorpius' and Albus' wild laughter.

James found Teddy in the kitchen, just as Luna had promised. He leaned against the doorway and took a moment to absorb the gorgeous sight before him. Teddy was pouring a generous amount of firewhiskey into a glass of eggnog as he hummed a Celestina Warbeck song under his breath that James _knew_ he had heard his grandmother sing before, his skinny jean clad hips swinging along in time to the imaginary beat. He wore an oversized dark blue Christmas sweater with white snowflakes and little deers, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. James could just make out a glimpse of one of Teddy's tattoos peeking out from the crook of his left elbow. A crescent moon with a star. James knew all of his tattoos by heart. Even the ones of suspected he wasn't supposed to.

Half of Teddy's hair was a vivid shade of red, the other half emerald green. It looked absolutely horrible. James loved it.

“You now, you're not fifteen anymore,” James said, announcing his presence. “You don't have to sneak around to get alcohol.”

Teddy looked up, a large, crooked grin lighting up his face. Dimples popped out in his cheeks and James bit down a groan. Those had to be illegal. Surely there was a crime in there somehow. Without a word, Teddy set the firewhiskey down and began rummaging through the cupboard above the sink.

“All the old farts are hanging around the alcohol table,” Teddy explained, stretching to reach a glass at the top. Teddy was tall, but the cupboard was taller — which was precisely why nobody else ever really _used_ it, but standard protocols had never really applied to Teddy. He balanced precariously on the toes of his black combat boots and James held his breath — partly because of the destruction that was sure to come and partly because Teddy's shirt had risen to reveal a glimpse of another tattoo. Teddy shot him a rueful grin over his shoulder, oblivious to James' sharp gasp as he teetered precariously to the left.

“Couldn't risk getting pulled into another story about the time Ron and Harry knocked out a fully grown mountain troll when they were eleven, or about the time Hermione punched Draco in the face.”

“Equally brilliant feats, of course,” James said.

Teddy laughed warmly. Somehow, by some miracle, Teddy managed to grab the glass without falling over or taking the whole cupboard with him, and James released the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Teddy twirled back around with it clutched victoriously in his hand. His waist clipped the counter hard enough to make James wince, but Teddy barely seemed to notice. He began mixing together a volatile mixture of twenty percent eggnog and eighty percent firewhiskey. James watched, mesmerized. Teddy was a horrible klutz and yet, somehow at the same time he had these odd little things he could do with an elegance that took James' breath away, like pour drinks (he picked that up in a bar in Paris) or play the guitar (a summer in the Caribbean with Andromeda when he was fifteen) or dirty dance (a club in New York James was not supposed to know about). Everywhere he went, it seemed, he came back home with a new talent.

Teddy passed the drink over to him with a wink.

“Best not tell your mum and dad about that, yeah?”

“I'm sixteen,” James reminded him.

He lifted the glass to his lips and immediately the familiar, comforting burn of firewhiskey assaulted his senses.

“Still not legal drinking age, sadly,” Teddy said.

There was a small smirk in the corner of his lips that spoke millions about just how much underage drinking he had done. It made James dizzy. Teddy was a wonderful puzzle of bad boy and dork. It was intoxicating. It made James feel reckless.

“Legal age for other things,” James said smoothly, then took a large gulp of his drink. As the acrid burn of alcohol flooded down his throat, he caught the way Teddy's eyes flicked to him then abruptly away. The action was quick, but James had caught it. He licked his lips, blood thrumming beneath his skin. He didn't know if it was the knowledge that Teddy was thinking along the same lines or the firewhiskey, but courage swelled through him, washing away his shaky nerves.

 _Time to get my fish_ , he thought and squared his shoulders.

Step one, get Teddy in a place they wouldn't be overheard by one of his many constantly eavesdropping cousins.

“Come to my room for a sec,” James said, voice calmer than he felt. “I want to give you your present.”

Immediately, interest sparked in Teddy's eyes. He didn't hesitate to round the kitchen isle nor did he remind James that he would be there Christmas morning, so there was really no need to give him his present now — not that James had expected him to. Mention presents — or anything to with Christmas, really — and Teddy was like a kid in Honeydukes.

Heart in his throat, James stepped through the doorway of the kitchen, Teddy at his side — and slammed face first into something. _Hard_. He swore loudly, tears springing to his eyes. A pained groan beside him told him he wasn't the only one.

“What the hell?” James demanded.

He reached out. His arm barely extended a few inches before his fingers knocked against _something_. He pressed his hand flat against what looked very much like thin air, but felt like a cement wall. When he withdrew it, his elbow knocked painfully against another invisible wall behind him and he swore again, cradling it to his chest.

“I think that's our answer,” Teddy said.

James looked at him. His eyes found the long expense of Teddy's throat, stretched and bared, as if in invitation. He swallowed, then quickly tilted his own head back and followed Teddy's gaze. A single, unassuming mistletoe hung in the doorway.

“My money's on Fred and Roxanne,” Teddy said. He pushed at the invisible wall and let out a low whistle, eyes glowing with interest. “I wonder what spell they used. This is just like the spell that was on that tomb in Egypt.”

“And how did you get into the tomb?” James asked, throat dry.

“There's a key, you see — something you have to do for the spell to lift. The Ancient Egyptians would sometimes put them on their tombs to trap burglars or trespassers. They'd get caught in the doorway and would be unable to get out until the caster came by and released them, or they died. The Egyptians would put they key in a puzzle or a code engraved into the doorway, in case they forgot it themselves, so they wouldn't be trapped...”

Teddy trailed off and James watched, eyes fixed on Teddy's face, the moment it dawned on him. Pink bloomed in Teddy's cheeks as he looked up at the mistletoe. He grinned crookedly and laughed, but James caught the nervous edge to the sound, the uneasy hitch in his breathing.

“Guess the key's obvious enough in this case, huh,” Teddy said, voice cheerful and light. The pink in his cheeks deepened into a dark scarlet.

Teddy looked at him and James held his breath. This wasn't even remotely how he had planned this going — the original plan had been to get Teddy into his room and then try and seduce Teddy into making a move — but he could adapt. Teddy leaned in. James' closed his eyes, heart racing so fast in his chest, he was sure Teddy had to hear it. Soft and warm and featherlight Teddy's lips touched his cheek and then, lightening fast they were gone. James' eyes flew open, disappointment and irritation stabbing through him. Teddy was turned away from him, his whole face scarlet now. He tried to walk through the doorway and only succeeded in headbutting the air. And normally, James would find that endearing and cute, but he wasn't much in the mood for endearing and cute right then.

“Here, let me try,” James said.

He grabbed Teddy's shirt and without any other forewarning, he pulled him firmly into a kiss. Teddy let out a muffled squawk of surprise against his lips and James immediately took the chance to deepen the kiss. He moved too fast — their teeth clacked loudly and James would've been utterly horrified with himself (James Potter did _not_ clack teeth when snogging like some over excited twelve year old), but then their tongues brushed and he couldn't be bothered to _care_. He lost himself in the kiss and felt a fierce rush of joy surge through him when he felt Teddy start to kiss back. They kissed then kissed again and again. Teddy pressed him back against the doorway and James slipped his fingers into Teddy's god awful red and green hair just like he had always wanted to (although in his fantasies Teddy's hair tended to be his favorite shade of bubblegum pink).

James nipped at his bottom lip, earning a moan from Teddy that went straight to his groin. He tried awkwardly to hook his leg behind Teddy's in an attempt to get them even closer, but Teddy pulled away, defeating his purpose all together. James let out a disgruntled sound and blinked his eyes opened. His breath caught in his throat.

Teddy's face was flushed, locks of bubblegum pink hair clinging to his cheeks, and his eyes were nearly black, pupils blown wide and irises a dark shade of purple James had only ever glimpsed once before. A thrill ran through James when he remembered when.

“Jaime,” Teddy breathed.

Shivers ran up and down James' spine, but the spell had been broken. Teddy's eyes went wide. Dark, cloudy blue flooded his irises; an ocean during a storm. He tried to pull back, but James caught his shirt.

“I know you want this too,” James said quickly. Teddy's face darkened further. Grey rolled over his irises like a storm cloud and he averted his eyes, but it was enough. Bubblegum pink still clung to his face. Teddy was always so easy to read, like an open book. It was one of the reasons why he had dropped out of auror training. James swallowed, then pressed on with reckless wild abandon, “I've seen the way you look at me — and I know you were hard that time you walked in on me in the bathroom.”

Unbidden, the memory sprung up between them — the memory they had both been pretending had never happened. James still remembered it all perfectly because that had been the moment when he had gone from hoping Teddy felt the same to _knowing_ he did. Every little detail was committed to his memory. The sound of the door handle turning as he stepped out of the shower. The sharp scrape metal against his palm as he scrambled for a towel. The look on Teddy's face the moment he had walked inside only to find James naked and wet, prick barely concealed behind a hand towel hardly bigger than a wash cloth — the way his eyes had widened, his lips parted, his breath hitched, his cheeks flushed, his irises darkened to a nearly black purple. After a heartbeat where neither of them had moved or even breathed, Teddy had apologized quickly and bolted, but James had saw it — the pure desire that had been written all over his face, the unmistakable bulge in the front of Teddy's trousers. _He had saw it_. And he would've done something about it right then if Teddy hadn't been in Romania by the next morning.

“I didn't — I can explain,” Teddy said, voice strangled, still not looking at him.

“I want you, Teddy,” James whispered. Teddy's throat bobbed. His eyes flicked to James', pupils still blown and irises still a storm. He looked as wrecked by the kiss as James felt. But James saw it, the glimmer of something in his eyes — hope, happiness, excitement, _something_.

“Merlin, James,” Teddy breathed, shucking in a sharp breath. “We can't. I'm too old for you — ”

“Only six years,” James said fiercely. “That's nothing. And I'm sixteen, Teddy. I'm old enough to make my own decisions and I. Want. You.”

It was the second time he said it. Teddy's breathing hitched and he released a shuddering, full-body breath. He went limp beneath James' grip on his shirt and James knew his decision the second Teddy's eyes cleared to a bright, sea-green.

“Your parents are going to kill me,” He muttered.

James grinned broadly. He thought about telling him that he was ninety percent sure they had seen it coming, but that would've took words and he had better plans for his lips. Like snog Teddy's brains out. That time, when James leaned in, Teddy moved his whole body forward to meet him, lips finding his, arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer, body curling into his. He should've known Teddy would kiss with his whole body. It took all of James' willpower to pull away. Teddy groaned unhappily and James grinned wickedly up at him.

“Still want your present?” James asked.

He tugged Teddy in the direction of the stairs, stepping easily through the doorway. Teddy nodded so quickly his head looked in danger of falling off. James laughed before he grabbed his hand and pulled him upstairs without further delay. As they made their way to his room, he couldn't help, but think smugly, _finally got my fish_.

 


End file.
